Ticking, Whirring, Spinning, Cranking
by PocketPamela
Summary: There's a contraption in Mike that ticks and whirs and spins and cranks. Everyone else's skull contains a brain. His contains a Machine. There is a chance that he very well could be more metal than flesh, and it scares him.  Magical realism.
1. Chapter 1

_Look at me, I'm back and writing horrible magical realism! This was prompted by 'rories' on the suits-meme, that asked for "Mike's brain is actually a machine."_

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><p>There's a contraption in Mike that ticks and whirs and spins and cranks. Everyone else's skull contains a brain. His contains a Machine.<p>

He's had it ever since he can remember. He supposes that his parents may have done isomething/i to him, while he was forming inside of his mother, to give him such a Machine. He's not quite sure what. They died before he could ask.

He's wondered if their accident was really an accident. What if they had been intentionally killed because of his Machine? Was there something completely and horribly illegal they had done to give him a Machine, to make him smarter than the rest? Did someone find out about it and want to hurt them? If that's the case, he's the reason why his parents are dead. It makes sense to him.

Trevor doesn't understand this almost-guilt that Mike feels. Mike didn't sign up for this Machine, and in any case, wouldn't Bad Men want to kill Mike instead, for he's the one with the maybe-illegal Machine? This leads him to think that his parents really iwere/i killed in an accident: an accident that was meant for ihim/i.

Mike's Machine is most definitely Advanced Proficient in the way it works, but he often finds that he sees everything in a different light than others. What they see as wrong, he sees almost-right. What they see right is only-half right. What they see as ugly, he sees as fascinatingly beautiful.

What they see as irrational guilt, he sees as justified remorse.

It makes sense to Mike, the fact that he could very well be the one to blame with his parent's death, but it doesn't to anyone else. The police filed the crash as an unfortunate accident, and then went on with their lives.

He's learned to not mention his Machine to anyone he doesn't completely trust. The list of people who know contains three people, and possibly two others: Gram, Jenny, and Trevor are the only three he's trusted enough to tell. He's not completely sure if his parents had known, but he likes to think they did. That they died knowing Mike's true self-half child, half Machine.

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><p>Mike is not normal. They discovered this when he was seven years old and playing in Gram's backyard with Trevor. He'd tripped and fallen, cutting his head on the sharp corner of their patio table. However, no blood poured out: there was just a clean slice straight through his scalp. If you looked close enough at the wound, you could see a little bit of metal interlocked with metal; a cast-iron spring, aluminum plates.<p>

Gram immediately took charge, quickly bringing him inside and making him sit up on the kitchen table, now clear of everything. No one questioned how she had known exactly what to do. It was then that Gram taught Trevor and him first-aid for those with Machines. Closing up the tear in his skin, Gram slowly explained to both of them how to stitch skin correctly, how to pull the thread and hold the wound i_just so_/i. Later on, when she was brought into the loop, Jenny was taught as well.

Each of them knew exactly how to stitch his skin back together, how to treat illnesses, how to set broken bones.

He couldn't ever go to the emergency room, because what in the world would they do with a boy who was filled with what looked like the inner-workings of a clock? i_(Spoiler alert: Gram had told him, when he was fourteen and asked her 'what would have happened if I was in the car with Mom and Pa, during the accident?' that Mike would've been cut open by doctors and never let go. They like to experiment, she said.)_/i

Getting older, he liked to research, especially Machines. He eventually gave up when he found that there was almost no information on them, anywhere. No medical journals, no matter how old or new they were, contained any information about them. He'd even taken to reading old myths and legends, seeing if there was any being that had any resemblance to him. He knew that all legends were originally based on facts. But, there was absolutely nothing there either.

The only thing he'd ever found about another machine was an obituary. Her name was Helen and she died in the 1970's. The accident report, written in chicken-scratch, said there was almost no blood on the pavement next to her, only strange metal parts. In the papers, it was described as a 'hate crime against a girl with a deformity'. After her death, multiple scientists wrote articles mourning the fact that they never got to learn about how her 'deformity' worked. It was then he consciously made the decision: if he was ever in such a position where he i_needed/i _to go to the hospital, he still wouldn't. He'd kill himself first, or have someone shoot him, before he'd be experimented on.

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><p><em>I really need help. Review!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**hi guuuuys**

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><p>He was once told, by a girl at Junior Prom, that his heart was made of gold. He laughed and told her she was way off, because his heart is real. It is one-hundred-percent muscle. A one-hundred-percent true heart. He's positive it's real. He can feel! He has emotions and his heart thumps steady.<p>

Late at night, if he cannot sleep (which is often, very often; shutting off his brain is incredibly hard, and he's found it easier to just close his eyes and lay still, it's almost the same) he presses his fingers hard against his veins, searching for his pulse. When he finds the steady beat-beat-beat, he feels happy. It's pretty much the only time he's happy nowadays.

His heart has the power to calm his brain; it stops the ticks from ticking impossibly fast, stop the cranks from cranking too hard. And yet, his Machine controls his heart: sending cobalt adrenaline through his veins, tin reason to temper his overwhelming need to help others. They balance each other out.

It worries him sometimes, to think about what would happen if, one day, he figured out he was a robot: covered in skin, blood running through copper pipes, nerves platinum rods spread throughout his whole body. There is a chance that he very well could be more metal than flesh, and it scares him.

He's blocked that thought from his Machine now, though.

That's the one good thing about his Machine. His memory is completely solid, no doubt held in an ever-expanding microchip. His memory is concrete. However, he has the power to delete memories from his hard-drive. He can erase the painfulness of public school: the bullies, the insecurity, the shame, the fear that someone could find out, the horror that he had a Machine and not a brain with nerve endings.

He's gotten past that now. His Machine isn't all that bad. He remembers what others cannot. He works at an almost inhuman pace, which is how he got his job even when he was kicked out from college. Even though he doesn't have a degree. Even though he had dropped pot on the hotel floor in front of his employer.

But, bringing himself up from the pit he'd fallen into, after his Machine had momentarily failed in a haze of marijuana, was harder than expected. Not so much that it was difficult to adjust to long working hours and new coworkers, because that wasn't hard at all. It was hard falling into the mentality of a lawyer. Cold, determined, superior.

He didn't want to be ruled solely by his Machine. And that's exactly what lawyers were supposed to do: emotions, feelings, were not allowed. Harvey Specter said so.

But he didn't want that. His heart was the most important part of him, it was real.

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><p>It turns out Mike's Machine cannot control his heart when it comes to his boss. He really doesn't want to like Harvey Specter: Coldest Man Alive, but for some reason, he does. The man is smart, he's brave, and he gets everything done. He doesn't let his emotions control him, and that definitely takes skill.<p>

Skill that Mike doesn't have.

He can barely restrain the envy he feels when he thinks of his boss. Harvey's incredibly put together. He's perfect, and most of all: he's real. He's one-hundred-percent a true man, and that makes Mike feel the worst. Because how can he ever amount to anything close to what his boss is, when the man owns more than Mike has in his entire life, and Mike is the one who can literally remember everything?

Mike is the one with the Machine, and yet this man can accomplish more in one day than he could in a week. Sure, he can speed-read, but Harvey changes lives. He changed Mike's life. He gets people their lives back every day he spends in court, and Harvey doesn't screw up like he has. He probably killed his parents, he got kicked out of college, he did marijuana. He disappointed Gram.

It's intimidating to work for Harvey, and sometimes Mike feels like running back to the past, to the safety of his Gram's arms, when she was strong and blonde, not fragile, gray. He feels like running back to the time when Trevor was still around to scare away the Bad, and Jenny was there to bring in the Good.

Trevor was sent away by Harvey Specter, He-who-did-not-let-emotions-run-the-decisions-He-makes. Harvey Specter, who is most likely a better (more whole) man than Mike will ever be. And Mike hates that no matter what he does, he will never actually be a real to the extent that Harvey is.

He will be Mike, with a Machine, pretending that he's a lawyer, and wearing a skin that falsely portrays him as all-flesh-and-bone.

Despite how much he envies the man, he also respects him. Harvey Specter is a good role model, and could be a great mentor if he allowed himself to emotionally connect with Mike. But he really doesn't mind, because Harvey isn't the type of man to do that sort of thing, anyway.

He can figure out the ropes of the lawyer world on his own. After all, he can stitch his own tears, so he can learn how to win. Once he adjusts, he's going to be the best man-Machine hybrid Pearson Hardman had ever hired. Unless they found out he had broken the law several times to obtain his job. Then, he'd be screwed.


	3. Chapter 3

**I really like writing this.**

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><p>Just because Mike has a Machine doesn't mean he is one. He needs sleep. And Louis doesn't seem to understand that.<p>

It's not that he needs a lot of it. He can function on less hours than a normal person can. But he still needs rest, and getting stacks of briefs an hour before he's supposed to be going home that are "needed by tomorrow, Ross, or else," is something that really pisses him off.

When he doesn't get enough rest, enough time to let the wheels turn slower, he gets horribly irritable. Most people do.

There are consequences Mike must deal with when he does not sleep. His head begins to pound, cruel sparks of discomfort flowing through his body. The Machine doesn't function properly when overworked, aluminium plates clanking together, throwing off his balance. The cranking turns inconsistent and unsteady.

Pain relievers help, to an extent. Not nearly enough to stave off the ache, though.

Redbull helps only a little bit more than pain relievers. Mike equates the sugary substance to some sort of thin motor oil. It makes the metal gears slippery, gliding past each other with more ease than they did on relievers. After a few hours, that wears away too.

His last resort, music, is dangerous to use at work. Sure, no one cares that he has headphones in while he proofs, but his brain can easily become more occupied with the rhythms of the music than his work.

He doesn't have to play songs that he likes. All the songs, however, need to be architecturally interesting. There's a section of the Machine that analyzes each separate instrument in any song, taking in the complex timing of beats, analyzing conflicting tempos. By focusing onto a specific, Machine-consuming sound, the rest of his Machine flows, and he tricks himself into being more awake.

Sometimes, it sends him closer to sleep if he picks the wrong song. Sometimes, the beat consumes him.

But it's a risk he's willing to take for his job. He gets the work done, and that's all he's ever asked for. The pain in between is just a distant memory that he can delete if he pleases.

Doing everything Louis and Harvey order him to do gives Mike a sense of accomplishment to overcome his weaknesses, like sleeping. He's in control, his Machine and him are One. And that makes him unstoppable.

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><p>Mike spends his days worrying about a multitude of things. His Machine works a mile a minute, creating scenarios in which his worst fears become reality: his secret getting out, his secret getting out, Gram dying, being taken to a hospital, being tested on..<p>

He's worried enough to know that he needs to find someone he trusts in Pearson Hardman to tell about his Machine, in case he ever get seriously injured or ill. Someone needs to know about how to stitch his wounds, and treat his cuts, and bring down his fevers without panicking. With Gram being in her home, Jenny disliking him, and Trevor being sent away by Harvey, he really has no one left. The problem is: who would he tell?

There isn't a shortage of people working in Pearson Hardman. Many of them like Mike, except for a few associates who seem to have something against him. He likes the majority of the employees, they're all nice people even though they all work in such a cutthroat world. He's just not close to anyone, and has no idea who to turn to.

He can't even fathom what Harvey's reaction would be, nor Donna's. He wouldn't dream of telling Jessica, and as much as he may like Rachel, he's not ready to give her such a large thing to hold over his head. He's not even sure Rachel could go through with helping stitch him back up, set is bones, clean his wounds in the event that he was hurt.

He finally decides to write a letter describing everything to keep in his bag. If something terrible happens, he'll just tell his savior to check his bag before they do anything stupid. This way, he's safe from a hospital, and he doesn't have to put himself out there.

It's right before his lunch break, and his Machine is spending more time internally composing his letter than actually briefing, so he finishes up his last file before he starts to write. His untidy handwriting could be problematic, but this is just a rough draft, so he has no need to worry. After a basic list of what he wants to mention is put down on paper, he stacks the files he's been doing for Louis off to the side, shuts his monitor off, and goes for lunch. He only has 15 minutes, and he's going to have to hurry if he wants to get something decent.

When he gets back, remnants of lunch still clinging to his fingers, his mood has slightly improved. After getting a small break, he's cleared his mind, and he's ready to finish his letter, get on with his work-get on with his life.

And then he sees Louis Litt sitting in his chair, clutching at the draft, staring straight at him.

The second Mike's eyes lock on Louis Litt, his fight-or-flight instincts send him into overdrive. His Machine cranks up to full speed and he's analyzing every single possible outcome of this situation. If he runs, he knows he will not be able to stop, and that means he'll get in trouble for leaving during work hours. Harvey would have his ass, and it's not like he could explain, either. Because he can't tell Harvey, too. He can't tell anybody. If he stays, he'll have to deal with Louis, and Louis knowing, and he's not sure even his Machine (which Louis knows about, oh god) can process that idea quick enough to actually handle the situation.

Mike wants to fall apart right there on the spot, but he can't afford to. He can't afford to let go of the control he's so carefully held onto for his entire life. He can't afford to show any sign of weakness. Physically, he's calm and smooth and shows no emotion (he hopes, he hopes). On the inside, Michael Ross is a raging inferno of anxiety, anger, and defeat. That inferno is burning every single shred of hope for the future he's ever had.

His life is going to crumble because of Louis Litt. Everything is going to fall, he is going to fall, fall like the Roman Empire, and he's doomed. Realistically, he's known that he was doomed from the beginning of his life. He never knew his life would end this early, though. He has no idea what to do, what direction to take—how he's going to handle his secret getting out. Louis Litt is a wild card, and Mike is dead, dead, dead.

He comes to that conclusion in a startling fifteen seconds. He stands still, right where he is, and waits for the explosion. He's afraid of Louis, he realizes: the man is malicious enough to yell out his secret right then, to point and laugh like they are in elementary school and not a law firm. Louis Litt is conniving enough to blackmail him, and he'd willingly go along with the whole plan. He is at Louis Litt's mercy. Louis Litt controls his job, his future; Mike's income, his success, and his chance to rise from the marijuana ashes like a phoenix reborn is all in jeopardy. His life, his Gram's life, all of it is held in the hands of a man who dehumanizes the associates; the man who refers to his underlings as "ponies" and who's only goal is to be in first place.

This man has the chance to torture Mike: he can cage him and have him ripped apart for the world to see. He controls everything.

Today is Mike's Judgment Day, and he's not prepared. Louis Litt brings down the gavel, "Mr. Ross, if you'll please accompany me back to my office," snide, proud, and Mike's fate is sealed. He cannot run, he cannot hide. He follows Louis, dejected, disheartened, no hope left, dead dead dead.

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><p><em>I really need comments, concerns, questions, and criticism, leave a review?<em>


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